


House of Gold

by dragontooth52



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Drug Trafficker!Josh, Drug trafficking, Hitchhiker!Tyler, Hitchhiking, Implied/Referenced Drug Trafficking, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Running Away, Short Chapters, Tyler plays ukulele, Unspecified Mental Illness, at some point in time this was inspired by House of Gold, like really short chapters, no actual drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:24:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 18,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragontooth52/pseuds/dragontooth52
Summary: Even as Josh slows to a stop on the edge of the highway he knows this isn’t going to end well. He always knew he’d be the type of idiot to get himself murdered, and the decisions that have lead him to the highway early this morning only confirm it, but picking up a hitchhiker is a personal low. He’s cursing himself as he rolls down the window, but it’s too late to turn back now, the hitchhiker’s face has lit up in the morning light, warmer than the sun itself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't really the type of thing I normally write, but I felt inspired so I thought I'd give it a go anyway. Please note that I am not a drug trafficker, and I don't live in America, so don't expect hyperrealism. Duh.

Even as Josh slows to a stop on the edge of the highway he knows this isn’t going to end well. He always knew he’d be the type of idiot to get himself murdered, and the decisions that have lead him to the highway this early in the morning only confirm it, but picking up a hitchhiker is a personal low. He’s cursing himself as he rolls down the window, but it’s too late to turn back now, the hitchhiker’s face has lit up in the morning light, warmer than the sun itself.

Josh leans out to look up at the man. He’s tall and lanky, but its hard to tell if there’s any muscle under the dusty yellow hoodie he’s wearing. A black backpack is tossed over his shoulder, and he grasps the handle of a ukulele case. He seems neat and well-fed and in good health, save for the bags under his eyes. He doesn’t look much like other hitchhikers Josh sees along the highways spanning North America.

The hitchhiker’s other hand, which had previously had its stubby thumb pointed skywards, now tugs at the orange beanie covering his cropped brown hair to secure it in place. He takes a few steps towards the car, which is still rolling to a slow halt, “What’s good, man?”

Josh pats his car gently, “Today’s your lucky day, my dude.”

Josh isn’t sure what he’s doing. He isn’t sure of the proper etiquette for letting a random stranger into your car. What if the man decides to poke about, pry into Josh’s personal life, sneak and snoop through the glove box and the back seats and the suitcase in the trunk? What if he finds things he’s not supposed to?

But while Josh is frozen in his internal dilemma, the man strides around to the passenger side and lets himself in, folding into the seat as if he was made to fill the space. The car feels full with the man there, although it had never felt empty before.

“Where’re you headed?” It seems a good a question as any. After all, he’s never encountered a hitchhiker quite like this man on the side of Route 70, and he’s driven this part of the road enough times to map it on the back of his hand. Out here is nothing but grey skies and rolling fields. It’s a type of nowhere that’s too commonplace even for cornfields or alien sightings. It’s bland. The man is anything but bland. Maybe that’s why Josh stopped, maybe he wants to know why the man is out here, providing a splash of colour against the greys and greens of the landscape.

“Where are _you_ headed?” The man counters. His voice is higher than Josh expected, and quick, the words are pouring from his mouth like leaks form a dam. “I’m good to go wherever. Just not here, you know?”

Josh hesitates. That wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. The other man is all too aware of the fact. He raises his eyebrows and smiles. There’s a hint of sarcasm in the grin. Josh finds himself smiling back, but he can’t help feeling as though he’s the butt of this joke. What does this man know that Josh doesn’t?

“LA,” Josh says finally. “Eventually.”

It’s not a lie. His end goal is LA. He’s just got a few pit stops on the way.

The other man looks him up and down. Josh squirms slightly in his seat, suddenly all too aware that he hasn’t washed his hair recently, and his brown roots are showing underneath the yellow dye, and he’s been wearing the same shirt for three days straight, and his jeans have a stain in a very unfortunate place.

“Are you sure you don’t have anywhere to be?” Josh checks. He wants nothing more than to drop the man off as soon as possible and get on with his trip. Josh doesn’t regret stopping, per se, but he really isn’t sure what to make of this man. At least the man doesn’t seem to be a murderer. Murderers don’t carry ukuleles. Usually.

“LA,” once again, he copies Josh. “Eventually.”

 _Well then_ , Josh thinks. A pause passes between them. It isn’t Josh’s turn to keep the conversation alive.

“Are we gonna get going?” The man asks finally, smile sliding off his face. His expression turns irritable and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I didn’t ask for a lift just to stay in the same place as before.”

Now Josh smirks, and the car stalls in place at the side of the road. He pretends he’s in no hurry. “Sure . . . eventually.”


	2. Chapter 2

The man is called Tyler. Josh knows because the name is embroidered on his ukulele case, swirling letters placed between stitched red roses, tangling with their thorned stems. Tyler spends the first three hours of the trip hunched over a notebook. His handwriting is small and cramped, his hand moving as though his mind is racing too fast to keep up. When they reach the other side of Indianapolis, Tyler closes his journal with a snap, tucks it away into his backpack, and finally speaks.

“Why LA?”

It’s the first time either of them have spoken since the side of the road. The question hangs in the air for a few moments while Josh contemplates the answer. He doesn’t quite know how honest to be.

“I could ask the same of you,” he says eventually. After all, Tyler wasn’t headed to LA until Josh admitted he was. It’s weird. Tyler’s weird. Josh is pretty sure hitchhikers usually have a destination in mind.

“I’m not stopping at LA,” Tyler says. He puts his feet up on the dashboard, and Josh can’t help but admire his vans. Just like his ukulele’s case, the shoes are personalised via embroidery. Little pink and red flowers blossom above his soles. Who has the time to embroider _shoes_? Who takes the time to notice?

“Oh?” Josh asks. He wants to know more. He wants to know why Tyler is a direct contraction.

But Josh’s unspoken question is unanswered. Tyler is distracted for a moment, staring out the window at a field of cows. Then he frowns at the car’s radio.

“Turn it off.” Tyler says, pulling out his ukulele. Josh hadn’t even realised it was on, but he obliges Tyler. He doesn’t care much about whatever pop song was interrupting the streams of advertisements on the radio. It’s something to fill the silence of the car, to take his mind off his drive and his destination, but now he supposes Tyler can do that. Tyler fiddles with the ukulele’s strings. Josh taps out a beat on the steering wheel.

They keep driving.


	3. Chapter 3

Josh pulls over at a rest stop when his eyes are dry and blurry. He's driven half the night and all morning and his legs have gone numb. He almost falls when he climbs out of the car. Tyler laughs, stepping gracefully out into the gravel parking lot and stretching his arms upwards towards the sun.

“I gotta make some calls,” Tyler says, then heads towards the phone box on the other side of the parking lot. Josh stares after him, watching the way he walks, elegant and purposeful. Then he realises he definitely needs to piss, so he turns his back on Tyler and heads towards the toilet block. When he finishes, Tyler is standing in the phone box, phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder. Even from across the carpark, Josh can make out Tyler’s sarcastic half-smile.

He wonders who Tyler is calling, and why. But if he were to ask, he knows he wouldn’t find answers. Josh kicks a stone back towards his car, wishing he could inject caffeine into his blood. There’s not so much as a gas station out here, at this point even instant coffee would be golden. Josh briefly entertains the idea of Tyler driving, just for a few hours, just so Josh can sleep. He decides against it because, sure he’s tired, but no way in hell is he going to let a stranger drive his car. He doesn’t know if Tyler can drive anyway.

The sun is warm, but the air is cold. It will get warmer further south. LA will be positively beaming at their arrival. Josh is a swallow, following summer across the continent, never settling down to roost for more than a few months. It wasn’t like he planned for his life to be that way. It just . . . was.

That was fine, he had convinced himself it was all fine. Josh checks the time on his burner phone. It’s near midday, which is also fine. He needs to make it to Kansas City by nightfall and with a pinch of luck and some good traffic, he’ll make it. He’s surprised Tyler hasn’t asked where they’re going now, since LA is only eventually.

Tyler’s voice, clear and bright from across the carpark, snaps Josh out of his thoughts, “You good, man?”

“I’m good,” Josh agrees, meeting Tyler’s grin with only partial conviction. “Let’s keep going, places to be.”

“LA,” Tyler says. “Eventually.”

“Kansas City tonight,” Josh tells him.

Tyler smiles softly as he reaches Josh, “You seen The Wizard of Oz?”

“What are you, six?” Josh asks.

Tyler raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Josh rolls his eyes. “Hasn’t everyone?”


	4. Chapter 4

Tyler, unsurprisingly, has also seen The Wizard of Oz. Tyler may also be the only person who knows the entire soundtrack to The Wizard of Oz on a ukulele. During his second rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow, Josh pulls into a McDonalds.

“Gross,” Tyler says, peering out the window at the neon yellow and red sign. “Don’t tell me we're stopping here.”

Josh opens the car door and unclips his seatbelt with clumsy fingers. He doesn’t grace Tyler with a response, because Tyler is right. McDonalds is disgusting. But Josh hasn’t eaten in over twelve hours and beggars can’t be choosers. Plus, if he doesn’t have caffeine _right now_ he’ll fall asleep standing up. He’s sure he has enough pennies in his pockets to buy a couple of Big Macs.

“Get me some nuggets!” Tyler calls out the car window.

Josh is halfway across the parking lot when it only hits him that maybe he shouldn’t be leaving Tyler in the car alone. Tyler is a stranger, he can’t exactly be trusted. Plus, what if he finds-

“And fries!” Tyler adds. His voice is faint, bouncing over the cement and mingling with the rough growls of cars on the highway beyond.

It’s fine, Josh decides, Tyler isn’t the type to pry.


	5. Chapter 5

They stop at another rest stop just outside of Kansas City.

“My mouth still tastes like grease,” Tyler complains, dumping the garbage from their McDonald’s lunch in a bin. “Why did you buy fries?”

Josh shrugs, not pointing out that Tyler asked for them. His mouth still tastes of grease too, but he’s not going to complain about it. Whiners aren’t winners. Not that Josh is a winner at anything. If he was he wouldn’t be bootlegging the suitcase in his trunk across the country.

“I gotta make some calls,” Tyler says again, gazing across the empty carpark towards the phone box. “I didn’t quite smooth everything out before. You understand.”

“I’ve got time,” Josh lies through his teeth. He doesn’t have time, the sun is sinking towards the far-off horizon. He’s supposed to be in the city by now. He’s shouldn't be late. He can’t fathom why he’s jumping through hoops for Tyler, a stranger he’s known for maybe ten hours. Josh has always been a people pleaser.

So as Tyler closes himself into the phone box, Josh stands at the low wooden fence that boarders the carpark. The rest stop is on a small hill before an endless nothing of dust and cornfields stretching out towards the pale blue horizon. There’s a hint of sunset yellow in the clouds, a glittering gold reminder that the sun is setting and Josh isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

LA in an eventuality, but Kansas City is supposed to be now.

The anxiety works its way up from his toes. His Big Mac curls in his stomach and threatens to surge up his tightening throat. There’s a pressure in his mind, heavy and almost palpable. He needs to get going, he can’t wait for Tyler to finish whatever calls he’s making.

So Josh turns his back on the last golden light spilling over the horizon and marches across the carpark towards Tyler. Tyler is leaning against the phone box, the side of his cheek flat and distorted as it presses against the phone box. He’s talking, voice filtered by the glass, muffled and soft and indistinct. His eyebrows furrow as he catches sight of Josh, but he gives a smile, that one with just a hint of sarcasm, and waves Josh away with one hand.

Josh shakes his head and taps his wrist, indicating that it’s time to get going. He is ignored. The pressure in his mind is growing, eating away at his thoughts like a black hole. He swallows the bile that creeps into his mouth and opens the glass door to the box.

“Tyler,” is all he manages before said man’s finger is pressed against his lips. Josh is so surprised that it takes him a few seconds to tune in to Tyler’s conversation. And by that time, Tyler has pulled his hand back to gesticulate wildly and slam the heel of his palm against the glass.

“-I don’t care,” he’s saying, tension loaded like bullets in his tone. “Like hell I need the money! I’m gonna _make_ money, once I get to LA. I gotta go, Zac, but don’t tell her. She doesn’t need to know. I’ll sort it out- I _will_. Just. Don’t tell her, else I’ll-”

The threat remains incomplete as Tyler slams the phone back down on his holder. He turns to Josh, and whatever slight smile was once there is now gone. His voice is gruff, “We better get going if we want to make it to Kansas City before dark.”

It’s a bit late for that, in Josh’s opinion, it’s already half dark.

He doesn’t point it out. He doesn’t point out that it’s Tyler’s fault their running late. He doesn’t ask what Tyler’s conversation was all about, or who Zac was. He just nods and turns back to the car.


	6. Chapter 6

****By the time they reach Kansas City the darkening sky is stretching away forever until it mingles with the fading fields behind them. The city ahead rears up out of nothingness, a smear of neon lights waiting to swallow them whole. Even here in the middle of nowhere, life builds itself up from the ground. Josh stares out the windscreen and admires the first signs of civilisation in hours. He has a lot of time to admire, because he’s stuck in a goddamn traffic jam.

Usually, Josh doesn’t mind traffic. But then again, usually he isn’t running late. In his pocket, his burner phone buzzes and buzzes, which only makes his chest tighten over each breath. Tyler doesn’t seem bothered, he hangs out the open window and gazes slack-jawed at the city.

“Tyler,” Josh says, peering out the windscreen. Why hasn’t he just dropped Tyler off somewhere along the road, somewhere outside of Kansas City, where he won’t be associated with Josh?

“Yeah?” Tyler asks obliviously. His head tilts towards Josh again, and Josh can see the reflection of the skyline in his eyes, apartment lights turned to golden stars.

“Put the window up,” Josh says, his voice low and gruff from the effort to speak past the lump in his throat. “Please.”

There’s a few moments where Tyler teeters between the cold dark outside and safety of the car. Then he curls back into the car seat and lets the glossy window slide into place. He doesn’t ask any questions, and Josh doesn’t give any answers.


	7. Chapter 7

Josh pulls to a stop by a Wal-Mart. The car stalls while he pulls a couple of crumpled fifty dollar bills from his pocket and shoves them into Tyler’s unsuspecting hand. When Tyler raises his eyebrows in a silent question, Josh says, “Get us some dinner.”

“Where are you going to be?” Tyler asks.

Josh’s stomach curls, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to eat at all. “I’ll be back in like half an hour.”

For the first time, Tyler doesn’t drop the issue, “Where will you be?”

“Also, get me a new burner phone,” Josh says. “If I gave you enough cash.”

Tyler counts the money in his hands but doesn’t move. For a moment Josh dreads that the question will come again and again, will wear him down like waves beating against sandstone cliffs. But Tyler says instead, “What if I take the money and run?”

“I can spare a hundred dollars.”

Josh can _not_ spare a hundred dollars. But Tyler not coming back is the least of Josh’s concerns. His gaze has fallen to the sharp red numbers on the car’s clock, glaring out at him and reminding him that he’s running late, he can’t run late, god knows what will happen if he runs late.

The door clicks open and Tyler slips effortlessly from the old leather seat to the cold asphalt outside. He stretches, Josh hears his bones pop into place, then the car door closes. Josh watches him walk towards the Wal-Mart, little more than a shadow as he skirts around cars and neon streetlights. Tyler will come back, Josh decides, because he left his ukulele in the car.

He shifts gear and drives off, the suitcase in the trunk rattling softly.


	8. Chapter 8

Tyler is standing under a streetlight, orange beanie pulled low over his forehead. His yellow hoodie is now tied around his waist, revealing the loose black singlet he wore underneath. The plastic bags at his feet rustle to themselves in the soft breeze. Despite the fact that it’s just gone nine, the street looks deserted, nothing more than the skeletal remains of a city. The flickering streetlights give everything an old, eerie look, like something straight out of a movie.

He’s too tired, now the adrenaline has worn off, to even be relieved that Tyler’s still here. He just pulls the car to a shaky stop and waits for Tyler to join him. He’s parked too far from the curb, but at this point he’s too tired to care. He just wants to sleep. Tyler doesn’t complain about loading all the groceries into the trunk himself, and as he slots himself back into the passenger seat he’s humming under his breath, in a good mood for whatever reason.

He glances at Josh critically, then says, “You smell.”

“I haven’t showered in three days,” Josh is too numb to think about how that may sound. Because it’s not that he doesn’t look after himself, it’s just that he’s slept in the back seat of his car for the past week and is too tired to care anymore. His stomach, which before was churning as though caught between an ocean and sandstone cliffs, has now sunken and settled on the sea floor, heavy and immovable.

“More than before,” Tyler corrects. Which is great, nothing like a complete stranger making you feel like a slob. It’s not far from the truth. At least Tyler doesn’t ask what the smell is, where Josh was, or what took so long, and Josh is grateful for that. Tyler just pulls a burner phone from his pocket, passes it to Josh, and says, “Where to now?”

“Motel,” Josh answers. There’s a place on the outskirts of the city, he’s been there before so he knows it well enough, knows it’s cheap. Cheap is really what Josh needs now. Money is tight, more so than he thought. He’s _really_ glad Tyler didn’t take the money and run.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning they’re up before dawn. Tyler is still wearing the sweatpants and worn tee he slept in, his hair messy and his eyes bloodshot as if his eyes didn't so much as close last night, but he beams at the yellow sun sitting on the horizon and takes gulps of the air while its still cool from the night. Josh isn’t faring nearly so well. For all his hours of sleep, he’s only more exhausted. His hand is clenched on the cardboard of his takeaway coffee cup, puffy eyes fixed on the road that snakes through soft dirt hills.

“Put the window up, Tyler,” Josh says. Dirt flies in the open window and peppers Josh’s cheek. It’ll be worse when the sun finally rises. They’re heading south today, and it will only get hotter.

But now, with the city fading away behind them, Tyler just laughs and pulls on his seatbelt so he can stick his whole head out the window. “C’mon Josh, live a little!”

Josh rolls his eyes, although a smile is creeping across his face. Tyler’s childish excitement is infectious, despite the churning sea of anxiety in Josh’s stomach.

“Look at it, Josh,” Tyler says, although there’s nothing to look at but dirt. “It’s just us and the earth! Don’t you feel _free_?”

Josh hasn’t felt free in years. He’s chained to the road, the well-worn asphalt that criss-crosses America like a spider’s web. Josh is little more than a fly, trying to flee from a spider that creeps ever closer.

He doesn’t understand how a road and some dirt could leave Tyler grinning ear to ear, but as the black sky turns gold and Josh finally convinces him to wind the window up, Tyler sighs in contentment and presses his cheek against the window. “I could drive forever.”

Technically it’s Josh driving, and even though he’s been in the car for less than two hours he’s already going numb. He lets Tyler smile, though, and instead just drains the last dregs of his takeaway coffee and twists the wheel as the road turns them east to face the oncoming sun.


	10. Chapter 10

Tyler’s phone buzzes and buzzes on the dashboard, ignored by its owner. Tyler is standing on the bonnet of the car, hands reaching for the swathes of cloudless blue that is the sky. Josh sits in the driver’s seat and picks at his Taco Bell and watches Tyler’s phone. They’ve stopped for lunch at a kiosk of sorts, with a McDonalds and a Taco Bell and a gas station.

Josh was right when he predicted it would get hotter, even with the air con on full blast there’s sweat dripping down the back of his neck. It’s so hot that the road wavers on the horizon. Everything is gold sand and brown dirt and blue sky. He wouldn’t be surprised if Tyler collapsed of heatstroke, standing directly in the sun’s glare. Yet despite the heat, Josh’s coffee is only lukewarm.

He crushes his garbage into a ball in his fist. The phone keeps buzzing and the instinct to pick it up is getting harder for Josh to ignore. Josh wonders briefly why Tyler used a payphone yesterday, yet clearly he had a personal mobile. Josh peers out at Tyler, whose gaze is still fixed on the heavens, then he grabs the phone and checks the caller ID.

 _Mum_ , it reads, along with a picture of an older woman smiling softly up at him. Josh can’t answer, it’s not his mother, so he puts the phone back down on the dashboard and lets it buzz and buzz until it tires itself out.

In the meantime he stares at street maps and tries to figure out the quickest way to Arizona and wonders if Tyler has ever seen cactuses in real life before. If Tyler loves emptiness so much, he’ll be thrilled by the endless nothing of their next pit stop.

The passenger side door is tugged open, Tyler slots himself into the car and beams at Josh, is cheeks red and his forehead beaded with sweat. His voice is rough from the dryness of the air, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Sure, if you like dirt.”

“It _can’t_ be coincidence that I met you,” Tyler says, “It’s _fate_.”

“Oh absolutely,” Josh stopped believing in fate a long time ago.

“No payphone though,” Tyler says, as if that’s the only drawback of the pit stop.

“You have a mobile,” Josh nods at the still-buzzing phone.

Tyler plucks the phone from the dashboard, checks the caller ID and carefully tucks the phone into his backpack. He smiles at Josh with crooked teeth and a hint of sarcasm, “I lost my phone back in Ohio.”

Josh doesn’t ask.


	11. Chapter 11

They find a payphone somewhere along the highway just after nightfall. It’s meant for calling repair trucks in the unfortunately common occurrence of a car giving up to the heat, but Tyler obviously isn’t calling a repairman. Josh watches from the car as the other man traces a finger across the cracks in the glass and speaks into the phone.

It’s getting cold, fast. There’s no motel in what has to be miles. Josh doesn’t want to be stuck sleeping in the car again, but it may be his only option. He hopes Tyler won’t object to having a sore back tomorrow. At least they have Tyler’s burrito, leftover from lunch, for dinner. Josh is entitled a share, it was his money that paid for it. That’s what he’ll tell Tyler, if Tyler objects. Not that Tyler seems to have much of an appetite.

Josh taps out a beat on the steering wheel, because his hands are twitchy and he needs something to do with them other than worry at his threadbare shirt. He thinks again of the worn old suitcase in his car’s trunk and wonders for a moment if its contents could help the endless electricity that makes it hard to sit still. But no, every kilo of the case’s contents is valuable, and Josh can’t afford to use it on himself. He doesn't really want to anyways.

By the time Tyler reclaims his seat on the passenger side of the car, Josh has been alone with his thoughts for far too long. He smiles and greets Tyler softly. Tyler slides down the passenger seat, spine curling in on itself, the very image of _don’t-look-at-me_.

He mutters, “Where to tonight?”

Josh stares out at the road. Even if there was a motel, he doubts he could afford it.

“Josh?” Tyler prompts, eyeing Josh cautiously. Josh gets the feeling Tyler wants nothing more than to curl up under a blanket and cry. Josh gets that feeling sometimes. Tyler’s voice has tension creeping underneath it, “Where are we going tonight?”

“Well, we can keep driving, or we can sleep here,” Josh proposes. Here is as good a place as any, because everything looks exactly the same as far as the horizon. Plus the caffeine has long since worn off.

Tyler stares up at the wedge of sky visible from the windscreen, “We’re not going to a motel?”

“I don’t have the money.”

Tyler huffs out a breath of air and says, “Okay.”

It isn’t okay.

Josh sets up a makeshift bed in the backseat, with a threadbare blanket and his lumpy backpack as a pillow. He considers offering it to Tyler, but the other man is still curled in the passenger seat, and it’s Josh’s car anyway. So Josh sprawls himself out on the back seat and tries to sleep.

He’s halfway to drifting off when Tyler says his name. “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

A pause, maybe Josh imagined Tyler speaking.

Then Tyler murmurs, “There are so many stars. Sort of makes you feel insignificant, huh?”

Josh isn’t really sure what Tyler is talking about. He props himself up on one elbow to peer blearily into the front seat. Tyler is still curled up with his knees to his chest, staring out the windscreen.

“What?” Josh asks eloquently. Because he has no idea what Tyler is talking about and where this is coming from. Wasn’t it just hours earlier when Tyler had been on top of the world.

“Back home, you can’t see the night sky,” Tyler says. “It’s easy to forget that there’s so much more out here.”

Josh hums in agreement, but he still doesn’t have a clue what Tyler is getting at.

“There are so many stars,” Tyler repeats. His voice is low and tired, barely a murmur. If they weren’t surrounded by empty desert, it probably would have been whisked away by the wind. “And we’re so alone out here. Insignificant, you know?”

Josh lets himself fall back onto the seat and rolls onto his back. He’s tempted to fall asleep, he doubts Tyler will notice. There’s a small sliver of sky from where he lies, an inky blue black, glimmering with silver stars. It is beautiful, but it doesn’t make him lonely. Hard to feel lonely when you don’t remember what it’s like to have company.

“We’re just specks of dust,” Tyler continues. “We’re indistinguishable from everything around us. We’re all part of this . . . this bigger picture, and no one even sees it. I see it.”

Josh’s eyes are getting heavy again, it’s taking a lot of energy for him to fight sleep.

“Hey Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“Sing to me.”

“Like, sing you to sleep?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

There’s a long silence. Josh cranes his neck and sees Tyler staring at the dashboard. “Sing what?”

“I don’t know. Do you know anything other than the Wizard of Oz?”

“Yeah.”

“Then sing that.”

A pause. The sound of Tyler’s ukulele’s case being unzipped. Then the ukulele strings start, and a few moments later they’re joined by Tyler’s voice. It’s nothing Josh has ever heard before, but it’s beautiful. He lets his eyes drift closed and Tyler’s voice lull him to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Josh wakes up, his legs tangled in his blankets and sweat sticking his hair to his head. Yellow sunlight beams through the car windows and directly into his eyes. It’s too early for this, Josh thinks, then realises that it can’t be early because the sun is up. He shoots upright, banging his head against the car door.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, rubbing his head. His only response is silence and when tears of pain are decidedly _not_ going to spill down his cheeks he checks the front seat. No Tyler. He glances out the windscreen. No Tyler, no anything other than brown dust and blue sky. Tyler’s ukulele is gone too. Did he leave in the night? Did he keep hitchhiking with another car? Or is he out there somewhere, soon to become the next vulture-stripped piece of roadside carrion?

Josh’s stomach twists at the thought and he’s suddenly glad he hasn’t eaten recently. Limbs stiff and bones popping into place with his movements, he kicks himself free of the blanket and tumbles out of the car onto the road.

“Hey Josh,” Tyler says from the car roof.

Josh spins on his heels to stare at Tyler. Tyler is lying on his back on the roof of the car, ankles crossed and face turned skywards. His ukulele rests on the roof next to him. He’s wearing nothing but plaid boxers and a floral kimono. His yellow hoodie is balled up under his head as a pillow.

“Um?” Josh asks.

“The sky was pretty,” Tyler explains simply. “I climbed up here to look.”

“And . . . stayed up there?”

“I lost track of time, thinking and writing and stuff. Also, I locked myself out of the car,” Tyler says. Tyler doesn’t look like he’s slept at all. Josh, despite feeling groggy and slow, hasn’t been this well-rested in months. Maybe he should offer Tyler the back seat next time.

Not that there was going to be a next time because they’ll be parting ways. Eventually. At LA.

“What time is it now?”

“Judging by the sun, mid-afternoon.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Josh hisses again. “We should get going soon. Like, now. Now would be good.”

Tyler sits up and stretches, then slips off the car roof to reclaim his spot in the passenger seat. They keep driving.


	13. Chapter 13

They stop at a nondescript town whose only claim to fame is a bakery stating to have the best vanilla slice in New Mexico, and a gas station with one pump. There’s hardly even a main street. The wooden sign welcoming them to town has been broken and covered in graffiti and the town’s name is long lost. Josh doesn’t really care. The journey isn’t as important as the destination.

Their car splutters to a stop at the gas station and Josh climbs out to refill it. Tyler fiddles with the lock on the car door and stars at the dirty asphalt outside. Josh’s car needs a wash. It’s covered in dirt, so much so that the original pale grey is barely visible under the thick coat of red-brown. But he doubts this town has enough water for its meagre population to drink, let alone some to spare for washing cars. While paying for gas he picks up some more water bottles, a packet of Doritos and some dip. He hopes Tyler doesn’t mind his choice of breakfast, or the fact that it’s already late afternoon.

They eat in the car, the air con just barely keeping it cooler inside than the afternoon heat outside. Tyler picks at the corn chips disinterestedly and it takes a good five minutes for Josh to convince him to drink some water. Just like the day before, Tyler is curled up in the passenger seat, looking like he wants to disappear.

Josh stares out the window and the bakery, wondering whether the vanilla slices really are any good, and if he should buy one. Something warm and smoothed is pressed into his hand and Josh looks down sharply to see Tyler pressing his phone into his hand.

“Um?” Josh says eloquently. The phone is buzzing, and the ID reads ‘ _Mum_ ’.

“Pretend you just got a new number. Act like you don’t know me,” Tyler instructs him.

“Why?” Josh asks.

“Just do it.”

Josh gives Tyler a look.

“Please,” Tyler whispers. He’s vulnerable. Josh feels bad. There’s no way to put it more elegantly. Maybe Tyler needs him to do this. Josh does a lot of things without thinking of the consequences, maybe this should be one of them.

So he answers the call and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 _“Tyler? Sweetheart, is that you?”_ A woman’s voice, faint and humming with static.

“Um, no,” Josh says awkwardly. He is not the right person to be doing this. He doesn’t have the words or emotions to make it believable. He’s getting a headache, maybe from stress, maybe because he hasn’t had a coffee in over twenty four hours. “Sorry. I think you have the wrong number.”

 _“No, no, that can’t be right,”_ the woman insists. _“Are you absolutely sure you don’t know anyone named Tyler? He’s in his late twenties, brown hair, he always carries around a ukulele with him. Maybe you found his phone?”_

Josh looks towards Tyler, who shakes his head.

“No,” Josh says again. “Sorry. I don’t know who you’re talking about. I just got a new phone, maybe he changed his number?”

The lady sighs, sounding incredibly old and tired, _“Alright. Thank you, dear.”_

“Yeah,” Josh says around the lump in his throat. “Anytime. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

The call flatlines and Josh passes the phone back to Tyler.

“Thanks,” Tyler says. He doesn’t mention how unconvincing Josh was. He just slips the phone into his pocket and resumes staring out the window.

“What was that about?” Josh asks.

“Nothing,” Tyler says. “Don’t even worry about it. She doesn’t understand.”

“Tyler-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Tyler says, voice sharp and brittle. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Josh.”

The conversation settles at the bottom of the sea, alongside everything else Josh doesn't want to think about, and waits to be thrown up during a storm.


	14. Chapter 14

That night they sleep in a motel. They roll in late at night at Josh’s discretion, even though the flickering _VACANCY_ sign is dubious to say the least. A room for one night is horribly overpriced, but Josh’s back is regretting sleeping in the car, and he can’t imagine how much worse Tyler feels.

Tyler wanders into the room after Josh, hugging his ukulele to his chest. They survey the peeling floral wallpaper and moth-eaten curtains and the suspicious red stain on the bedsheets. The room smells of dirt and something rotten, and Josh swears he can hear rats in the roof.

“Nice place,” Tyler says eventually.

Josh toes off his shoes. There’s one bed, one table, one chair, and a kitchenette with a mini-fridge. A small door in the back wall reveals a cramped bathroom, with the shower slowly dripping.

“We can ask for a refund and sleep in the car,” Josh offers. “Or ask if any rooms have two beds.”

“Don’t bother,” Tyler says. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Josh laughs, although he’s not sure Tyler is joking.

In the end, they both strip down to their boxers and sleep on the bed, backs pressed together, sweating into the sheets. Josh stares at the peeling wallpaper and listens Tyler’s breathing, quick and shallow, until he falls asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Josh wakes before dawn, feeling like his head is splitting in half. He groans and rolls over, accidently pushing Tyler off the bed. Tyler hits the floor with a muffled yelp, but doesn’t sit up again. Josh rubs his head and squints through the darkness at his friend. Friend? Is Tyler a friend?

“Tyler?” He croaks, kicking the sheets off and crawling to the side of the bed. Tyler is lying on his back on the floor, staring up at him blearily. His chest is moving, so Josh doesn’t worry. Tyler is probably fine. So Josh sidesteps Tyler and stumbles to the kitchenette. Lady Luck is smiling at him, there’s a coffee machine and coffee beans.

Five minutes later, with a coffee in hand, he turns towards Tyler, who is still lying on the ground. Josh takes a gulp of coffee – it takes funny, probably because the water is sort of yellow – and thinks about what to do if he really did hurt Tyler.

Tyler is meeting his gaze from across the dim motel room.

Josh gestures vaguely towards his head. “Headache, um, coffee withdrawal. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I get chronic migraines,” Tyler volunteers.

“That sucks,” Josh says. Tyler hums in agreement, then forms a makeshift pistol with his fingers and mimes blowing his head off.

“You good? I mean, right now? Since I pushed you off the bed,” Josh says. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m good, I wasn’t sleeping,” Tyler says, looking about the room as if seeing for the first time. “You know, lying on the floor gives you a different perspective.”

Josh looks at the dirt-crusted carpet and smiles thinly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Tyler doesn’t crack a smile, just stares at the cracked ceiling, eyes moving side to side as if he’s reading, or deep in thought.

Josh drains the last dregs of his coffee and makes a face, it’s far from the best coffee he’s ever had. He glances towards the bathroom again, “I’m going to have a shower.”

Tyler doesn’t respond, but Josh is sort of getting used to that.


	16. Chapter 16

Josh finally reaches his next destination, five kilometres out from the Mexican border. He leaves Tyler in the car on the side of the road and trudges down the town’s main street. His heart pounds like a drum, each beat announcing a new scenario to worry over. His palm was sweaty on the brown briefcase’s handle.

When Josh finds who he’s looking for, business is quick and efficient. It always is. The suitcase is weighed, the goods are secured, the cash is exchanged. A quick handshake, and Josh is spat back out into the sweltering street.

For a moment his knees buckle and the floor sways under his feet. The adrenaline pumping through him has no target, and it claws at every semblance of normality Josh has. There are tears in his eyes, his breath is ragged, he can barely even stand.

The moment passes and the adrenaline that previously chained him down into his body is now sending him soaring. He’s in the clouds, spiralling and dizzy and so, so far removed from the pavement below him. Is this what Tyler felt, when he stood on the car’s bonnet and reached out towards the sun? Had Tyler felt that existing, being alive if only for a moment, enough to make everything else worth it?

Josh thinks of the way Tyler had yelled into the empty desert and how it had been enough. More than enough. It had filled the quiet with sound, like a drumbeat fills your chest and drowns your screaming brain.

Life is both the game and the prize. And for once, Josh has played all the right cards.


	17. Chapter 17

“Josh.”

Josh groans and shifts uncomfortably, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand. He’s cold and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want to move. Better to be cold, uncomfortable and asleep than cold, uncomfortable and awake.

“Josh. Wake up, man.”

That voice is familiar. That’s . . . Tyler? Josh struggles to open his sticky eyes. It’s still dark, Josh can hardly see an inch in front of his face. The car seat where he lies smells of sweat, which is great. Josh really just wants to go back to sleep.

“Josh, c’mon. I gotta show you something,” Tyler says. “You’ll love it.”

With what little energy he has, Josh pushes himself upright and then hits his head on the handle above the door. He curses and flinches, but at least the pain has jolted him fully into consciousness. His eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and he sees Tyler peering at him from the front seat, ukulele tucked under one arm.

“What the hell, Tyler? S’like three am,” Josh grumbles.

“Four,” Tyler corrects, “Come on. This is worth getting up for.”

Josh grumbles, but climbs out of the car, wrapping his threadbare blanket around his shoulders. Tyler is crouched on the bonnet of the car, waiting for Josh to join him. Josh clambers up after him, then still higher onto the roof of the car.

“Okay, we’re on the roof of my car at four in the morning, in the middle of the desert,” Josh clarifies. “What did you want to show me?”

Tyler beams and turns his face skywards, “Meteor shower.”

Above them the sky unfurl in every direction, starry trails of blues and blacks and purples, swallowing the desert in darkness. And falling like silver tears down the night’s face are dozens of meteors. It’s mesmerising, in the same way that a car crash or a tragedy is mesmerising. The sky is so big, and so empty, and Josh feels bad because Tyler probably just wanted to show him something pretty.

“It makes me feel less alone,” Tyler says softly, still gazing up at the sky. “So many stars up there, looking out for me. Guiding me.”

Josh frowns, he remembers Tyler saying that he didn’t like the stars for that exact same reason. But he hums in agreement and looks up at the sky again. It’s pretty, it honestly is, but it’s so big and Josh is so empty. It’s just him, the sky, and his old beat-up car. That’s the only consistency in his life, and Josh is okay with that, until he has to confront it.

“Josh?” Tyler asks.

“Yeah?” Josh’s voice is soft and rough. The word doesn’t quite sound whole.

“Are you crying?”

Josh is crying. Hot tears drip down his cheeks and fall like the stars above. He clears his throat softly, but the sound is massive in the emptiness of the desert. “No.”

“Josh, you’re crying,” Tyler insists.

Josh swallows thickly and shakes his head. If he admits he’s crying, everything becomes so much more real. Tyler’s fingers brush against Josh’s knuckles, a comforting motion but Josh pulls away. He can’t look at the weeping sky anymore, he bows his head and watches his own tears glitter on the dusty roof of the car.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says, but his words are stuffy and far away. Josh’s head is full of cotton, his sight blurs and his lungs are already too full for more air. He can still hear Tyler’s voice, buzzing as though a swarm of bees spews from his mouth with every sentence, it’s too difficult to focus on the words and all Josh wants to do is curl up and cry.

So he does, he crouches and buries his head in his knees, and Tyler sits beside him with his legs sprawled out, his face upturned to the sky and his ukulele laid out next to him. He doesn’t say anything, just waits until all of Josh’s tears leak out and drip into the dusty desert.

As a golden-pink dawn spreads slowly over the east, Tyler picks up his ukulele and strums a few tentative cords, “Would it help if I played something?”

Josh nods, his voice too wrecked to form words.

And so they spend several more hours on the roof of the car, with the sky turning baby blue and the heat seeping up from the sand, and Tyler’s ukulele fills the emptiness. And all things considered, as they climb back into the car and Josh lets the motor splutter to life, he doesn’t feel quite so hollow.


	18. Chapter 18

They stop at a diner somewhere near the Utah border. They get a lot of weird looks as they walk in, clothes crumpled, hair ruffled, dust imbedded in the lines in their faces. Especially Tyler, with his floral print vans and pink shirt. They slot into a booth near the exit, which Josh likes because if everything goes to hell it’s a quick escape.

“The yellow is fading,” Tyler says as they look over all-day-breakfast menus.

“Hmm?” Josh asks. He still feels like he’s viewing the world through a television where the sound and visuals don’t quite align. Josh doesn't know how to make the world reset and function properly.

“Your hair,” Tyler continues, scanning the pancake options. “The yellow is fading. Are you going to re-dye it?”

Josh tugs his fingers through his knotted hair thoughtfully. Truth be told, he’s completely forgotten he even dyed his hair at all. It had been back in Boston. Before Tyler. The idea of there being a time before Tyler had occupied the passenger seat in Josh’s car is abstract, although it had been less than a week since they’d met and Tyler was still pretty much a complete stranger. Yet Tyler’s silence is more company than the radio ever had been.

“Um, maybe,” Josh says when he realises Tyler is probably expecting an answer. He sinks down in his seat when Tyler doesn’t look at him, just nods and lets the conversation go limp. He knows he took too long to answer, Tyler lost interest, or maybe hadn't cared in the first place.

A waiter appears. They order. They wait for their food in separate quiet worlds.

“Are we going to LA next?” Tyler asks before the silence becomes suffocating. “I think we should go to LA soon.”

“No,” Josh says, then because Tyler is still looking at him expectantly he adds, “We will. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Tyler echoes, and a small smile tweaks his lips up. “So where to next?”

“North,” Josh says. He needs to get to Canada at some point. Maybe make a pit stop at Yellowstone. He wonders if Tyler’s ever seen it.

“Not back to Ohio though?” Tyler asks cautiously.

“No, not back to Ohio,” Josh agrees.

Their food comes. Josh sips on his coffee and picks at his burger and watches Tyler drown his waffles in syrup.

“About this morning,” Tyler says eventually.

“I’m sorry,” Josh says. He ruined everything, again.

“Four am is the best time to breakdown,” Tyler says. He’s probably speaking from experience, but Josh is a fan of not having breakdowns, regardless of the time.

Josh drains the last dregs of his coffee and puts the porcelain cup down. It clatters against the saucer before settling. His fingers twitch anxiously against the glossy tabletop. Josh hopes Tyler doesn’t notice. When they finish eating, Josh rummages through his pockets for cash.

“I have a card,” Tyler says. A worn out credit card sits tentatively between his thumb and forefinger. “I can pay.”

Josh nods, taken aback. He hasn’t really thought about Tyler paying for anything. Tyler’s company has been payment enough. Or something. Josh isn't sure what the proper etiquette is in this situation. Tyler swipes his card, and the machine makes a disagreeable beeping sound. He tries again. No luck.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the waitress says, “Your card has been declined.”

Tyler’s demeanour crumbles. The wall that had been so infallible during Josh’s breakdown and the subsequent hours is destroyed in a matter of seconds. His face twists into a familiar look of frustration, but he doesn’t question it, or insist that there must be some mistake. He just shuffles aside and lets Josh count out cash.

When they’re back in the safety of Josh’s car, Tyler says, “Stop at the nearest payphone.”

Josh thinks about Tyler’s very real and perfectly functional mobile, but he doesn’t ask why Tyler doesn’t use that instead. He’s long since learnt that asking questions leads nowhere productive.


	19. Chapter 19

Tyler stands in the phone booth, the black wire curling around his finger. Josh leans against his car and listens to the hum of Tyler’s voice bouncing off the glass walls and spilling out into open air. Tyler’s voice is barely over a murmur, but the way his brows pinch together indicates that his conversation isn’t a pleasant one.

His dark eyes flick upwards and meet Josh’s, and while Josh is caught frozen in the act of eavesdropping, Tyler’s features twist into a familiar smile. The one with a hint of sarcasm, enough to indicate that there’s nothing to smile about. Still, Josh forces himself to return the grin.

A green sign occupies the air above the phone booth. Its metal legs are rusted and bent out of shape, sagging under its weight. The green paint is peeling, but the while letters are still decipherable. 10 miles to Hurricane, Utah. Wherever the hell that is. Somewhere to the west the sun sets, gold but quickly fading. Its long fingers curl across the ground and brush over Josh’s crumby car, struggling to grasp whatever is left of the day.

The sharp sound of the phone booth’s door slamming shut makes Josh wince and look back to the phone box. Tyler is approaching the car, kicking at the ground as he walks. He doesn’t speak, just slots himself back into the passenger seat and waits.

Josh lags behind a couple more moments, gazing at the sign and the phone box and the fields of greyish grass that surround them on all sides. Then he returns to the driver’s seat, offering Tyler a small smile.

Tyler just glares daggers at the dashboard.

“Who’d you call?” Josh regrets asking as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Tyler doesn’t reply.

“Cool,” Josh says, although he knows he’s messed up by even opening his mouth. “I guess we should keep driving. Make it to a motel before it gets late.”

Tyler reaches forwards and turns on the car radio. They pull away from the side of the road and leave the phone box staring after them in the rear-view mirror.


	20. Chapter 20

They’ve driven maybe thirty miles when Tyler twists around in his seat, brown eyes bright and intense. “Promise me, Josh.”

“Promise you what?” Josh asks. He doesn’t think Tyler will ask for much, maybe a promise not to sleep in the car anymore, which Josh wouldn’t mind because his back aches and his shoulders are stiff.

“Promise me we won’t go back,” Tyler says.

“Go back to Arizona?” Josh asks reasonably.

Tyler scoffs as if Josh is making fun of him, crossing his arms and glaring out the windscreen.

“I- I mean,” Josh tries to backtrack, but it’s a feeble attempt. “Go back where?”

“To Ohio,” Tyler says the words as if they’re poison. “Promise me we won’t go back.”

There is no way that Josh can _promise_ that. He doesn’t have control over where he’s supposed to be. Instead of telling Tyler that, he just asks, “Why?”

Tyler’s voice is dripping with disgust, “There’s nothing left for me in Columbus. I can’t go back, Josh.”

He leans forwards into Josh’s peripheral vision, even when Josh stares straight ahead out the windscreen. He can see the stubble on Tyler’s top lip, the way his eyelashes curl against his cheeks, can smell something bitter and unpleasant on his breath. Probably old Big Macs. Probably Josh doesn’t smell any better. “Promise me, Josh.”

“I promise,” Josh says, this time without thinking. There was something in Tyler’s voice, maybe conviction, maybe desperation, that made Josh feel as though he had no other choice.

Tyler backs off, sinking into his seat and turning to stare out the windscreen, meeting the gaze of the brilliant yellow eye that is the sun hanging above the horizon. “Good. Yeah, real good. Thank you Josh.”


	21. Chapter 21

Tyler is gone when Josh wakes up. He’s not scared, Tyler’s ukulele is still on the motel room’s table, along with his backpack. But it’s like some part of him is missing, something is different, and even the way Josh moves from his bed to the kitchenette is different without Tyler’s presence.

Josh drinks two cups of coffee before Tyler appears. He’s dressed in his ratty yellow hoodie and cargo pants and he's hugging a plastic bag to his chest. Josh watches him enter the motel and leave the door swinging open, a wedge of sunlight spilling over the dark carpet and into the room.

“What’s good Josh?” He says cheerfully, voice louder than usual. It’s like he suddenly owns the space he takes up, when previously he’d been renting it, careful not to take up too much room or make too much noise.

“Um,” Josh says, unsure exactly how to respond.

“Here,” Tyler dumps the contents of the bag unceremoniously onto the tabletop. “I had to take some of your money.”

“How much did you spend?”

“A hundred dollars, more or less,” Tyler says, as if it’s no big deal and not much money.

“That’s fine.” Josh says. He’s not sure it’s fine. He’s not sure he can spare the money. He’s not sure he should be letting Tyler take his money without asking. “Just, you know. Ask next time.”

“Oh, sure,” Tyler says cheerfully. Josh suspects the words rolled off him like raindrops. Tyler picks up something and throws it at Josh. “I got this, though.”

Josh catches it with fumbling hands and peers at the label. It’s hair dye.

“Oh,” Josh hadn’t really considered re-dying his hair, not before he got to LA.

“It’s a good colour,” Tyler says. He looks happy, and it was a nice thought, and Josh doesn’t want to waste the money. So he returns Tyler’s smile with one of his own and mutters something half-hearted about how great it is. Tyler somehow misses his lack of enthusiasm.

Josh’s hair turns from yellow to red.


	22. Chapter 22

Josh has never been a fan of red. Red is the colour of the clock on his dashboard which glares at him, angry and sharp, when he is running late. He likes the red in his hair even less, he hates the way it dances in the corners of his eyes and teases him and he has to be happy about it, for Tyler’s sake.

Tyler is happy. Tyler is too happy. Josh isn’t really sure what’s wrong with him. As they speed down the highway Tyler hangs out the open window like a dog, grinning ear to ear. Josh has always wanted a dog.

“This is the _most beautiful_ road,” Tyler says sincerely.

“It’s about the same as any other highway,” that description is more than fair, in Josh’s opinion. It’s nothing special, just a road, some grass, some trees, some cows.

“I’m so glad I left Ohio,” Tyler says. “Best decision I ever made.”

“Why did you leave Ohio?” The question is out of Josh’s mouth before he realises maybe it’s not a good idea to ask.

“It wasn’t where I was supposed to be,” Tyler says easily. Josh has used that excuse enough times to know it’s just that. An excuse. But he doesn’t ask again. Clearly Tyler doesn’t want to talk about it. Josh is about to find a new topic, but Tyler beats him to it, “Can we stop at Salt Lake City?”

“Why? There’s nothing there but Mormons,” Josh says. Not that he’s ever stopped at Salt Lake City either.

“If there are so many believers there, maybe God’s presence is stronger too,” Tyler says.

“Don’t tell me _you’re_ a Mormon,” Josh mutters. He doesn’t have anything against Mormons, but he can’t say with good faith that he’ll think of Tyler in the same way if it so happens Tyler is a Mormon. Were there any Mormons in Ohio? Josh doesn’t remember there being any there when he was growing up in Columbus.

“I’m not,” Tyler says thoughtfully. “But they’re so _faithful_ , it’s impossible not to admire them.”

Josh isn’t sure admire would be the word he’d use to describe how he feels about Mormons, but what does he know?


	23. Chapter 23

They don’t stop at Salt Lake City, thank god. They keep driving, and after Josh stops for some takeaway coffee, he makes the impromptu decision to continue on to Canada, even if it means driving through the night.

Tyler spends the ride hunched over, scribbling in his journal. Josh works up the courage to ask what he’s writing.

“Lyrics,” Tyler says, “When we get to LA, I’m going to become a singer.”

“You’d be good at it,” Josh says. He likes Tyler’s voice.

“I know,” Tyler says. “I’ll make millions.”

That seems like a bit of an impossible promise, but it’s Tyler’s dream, or whatever, so Josh doesn’t ruin it for him.

“What are you going to do in LA?” Tyler asks.

“Catch up on sleep,” Josh says.

It takes forever to cross the Canadian border, and Tyler takes ten minutes to find his passport and prove his identity. Josh lies, as always, and thankfully Tyler doesn’t question why he’s suddenly on holidays because it’s been his dream to spend a weekend in Toronto with his childhood friend Josh. He just nods and smiles along and they are finally free to pass through.

As they drive away Tyler is shifting in his seat to peer back at the guard station, and then looking at Josh as if he wants to say something but can’t quite find the right words. Josh is pretty sure he needs another cup of caffeine to forget the ordeal. It doesn’t matter though. They’re through.


	24. Chapter 24

“Why did you lie?” Tyler asks late that night at their motel. Josh is covered by at least five blankets and half asleep, and Tyler repeats the question before he finally works up the energy to answer.

“Well it got us through,” Josh says. He wants to leave it at that. He isn’t sure what miracle stopped Tyler asking about Josh’s career, or life, or anything about him, before but he doesn’t want Tyler to start asking now.

“We haven’t known each other since childhood,” Tyler says, although for some reason it sounds more like a question than a fact.

“I know,” Josh mumbles, cracking open an eye to look at Tyler. The other man is sitting cross-legged on his bed, boxers and a loose t-shirt, cradling his ukulele like it’s a baby, not looking like he’s going to sleep any time soon. “Hey Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you play me some of your songs?”

Tyler lights up, completely forgetting his previous line of questioning in favour of strumming something cheerful on his ukulele. Again, Josh is close to falling asleep, when suddenly Tyler’s voice cuts off and his strumming stops. Josh forces his sleep-heavy eyes open to see Tyler frowning down at his instrument.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asks.

“They’re all stupid,” Tyler mutters. “They don’t believe me, Josh, they don’t think I’ll make it in LA. Zac keeps telling me I need to go back to Ohio.”

“I think you’ll make it,” Josh comforts, not entirely truthfully. He does think that Tyler is a really good singer, but LA is ruthless.

“I think so too,” Tyler says firmly.

“Keep playing?” Josh requests.

Tyler hesitates for a long moment, then starts again, singing a completely different song than before. This one, even on the ukulele, is much less upbeat. Third time lucky, though, because Josh is finally able to fall asleep.


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning they head to the grocery store together. Josh checks things of his list, choosing the cheapest options and smallest rations, while Tyler tosses random items into the trolley. Chocolate sauce, dental floss, vegan sausages, toilet paper, coffee beans. Josh firmly places everything but the coffee beans back on the shelf.

The walk back to the motel leads them through a park. Tyler, who had his ukulele slung over his back, pulls the instrument out of his case and starts strumming as they walk.

“You could probably get some money busking,” Josh says.

“You think?” Tyler asks brightly.

“Why not give it a try?”

They stop at a bandstand, Josh sitting on one of the seats and watching Tyler parade about the wooden stage, singing and tipping his head in thanks to people who toss him spare coins. Half an hour later he’s accumulated quite a crowd, but Josh is sure that the milk will go off if they wait any longer so he ushers Tyler away and back to the motel. Tyler is beaming like the cat who got the cream.


	26. Chapter 26

Getting back into the United States is much more difficult than getting out. The whole time Josh’s mind is on the clear plastic baggies hidden in the lining of the heavy white jacket in the bottom of his backpack. No matter how many times he has done this in the past, the writhing snakes in his stomach never settle and he always ends up with his hands shaking on the wheel. This time he gets his own date of birth wrong. The security guards are strict and unforgiving, if he didn’t have Tyler carrying his lies through in a way that oozes confidence Josh would probably be arrested in the spot.

When they’re through, Josh can’t thank Tyler enough. Tyler just laughs and waves him off, “Don’t even worry about it. But dude, there is so much adrenaline pumping right now.”

Josh didn’t take Tyler as an adrenaline junkie. He voices this sentiment, albeit in a much softer way.

Tyler shakes his head, “I’m not, I swear, I’ve just been feeling really good this last few days, you know. Since I met you. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

That’s not the answer Josh was looking for, and it mostly likely is entirely coincidental. Although there’s no harm in letting Tyler believe otherwise, so he nods.

“Where to next?” Tyler asks, leaning forwards and peering out the windscreen at the scarlet sunset, as if expecting to see the next motel staring back on the horizon.

“LA,” Josh says, sounding a lot more certain than he feels. He doesn’t really want to, but it’s about time he holds himself accountable and takes Tyler to LA and gives him his chance to make it big.

“Now?” Tyler asks excitedly.

“Tomorrow. Now we find a motel,” Josh corrects, because it’s already getting dark and he’s tired.

They stop at the first place they find. Tyler scribbles away in his notebook, humming under his breath and smiling and Josh discretely rids his jacket of the baggies and packs them neatly into a grocery bag, then stitches his jacket back together with the only scraps of thread he has. The jacket ends up having a Frankenstein look, with black and red string holding it together.

Tyler laughs, calls it awesome, and offers to put a load of washing on. Josh isn’t sure when he last washed his clothes, so he accepts. He’s asleep before Tyler comes back.


	27. Chapter 27

“Something went wrong with the washing machine last night,” Tyler says the next morning, handing Josh an armful of still-damp clothes. Josh thanks him softly, and nods for Tyler to continue. He does, “I mean, I’ve seen clothes get turned pink before, but never _red_.”

Tyler holds up his beanie, which is now stained a blotchy yet bright red. There’s hardly a hint of its true orange underneath. Josh looks through his own clothes. They were mostly black, and therefore unaffected, but his thinner hoodie, boxers, gym shorts and a singlet are not so lucky. His hoodie is more pink than red, but everything else is an ugly scarlet that matches Tyler’s beanie. And Josh’s hair.

Josh hates it.

They keep driving south, although Josh is beginning to forget where he’s going and why. After so long surviving on caffeine and desperation, he’s not really sure what to do with a whole eight hours of sleep and a week of extra time before his next deadline.

Tyler strums on his ukulele and sings, seeming perfectly happy to keep driving aimlessly forever. With nothing to preoccupy his thoughts, Josh listens to the words. It’s something sweet and repetitive, possibly about caring for his mother. That doesn’t make sense to Josh, isn't Tyler actively avoiding his mother? It's a nice song though, and Josh tells Tyler as much. Tyler glows under the compliment and rambles something about the creative process, something about not having a destination and just letting the road take him where it would.

It’s a metaphor, but it’s a little too literal for Josh. Tyler may be happy to be aimless, but Josh wishes he had a destination to focus on. Even on days like today, when he doesn’t have to, he keeps on driving.


	28. Chapter 28

When Salt Lake City appears on the road signs on the side of the road, Tyler again mentions how much he wants to visit.

“You really want to go to Salt Lake City?” Josh asks sceptically.

“Of course,” Tyler asks, frowning as though he couldn’t possibly figure out why Josh is being sarcastic. “I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Hmm,” Josh responds. He’s not convinced that Salt Lake City will offer anything of worth, it never has any other time Josh has driven through, but maybe he should go just to entertain Tyler.

“Do you believe in God, Josh?” Tyler asks. Josh hadn’t expected the question, it’s not one he was expecting to be asked. Is he close enough with Tyler that it isn’t weird for him to ask that? Tyler is staring at him expectantly. Josh knows what Tyler _wants_ the answer to be. He wishes he could truthfully give Tyler that answer.

Instead, Josh says, “Not anymore.”

“Why not?” Tyler asks, then keeps talking without waiting for an answer. “I believe in God. I don’t think any of this is a coincidence. God is up there, guiding me. I just know it.”

“What do you mean, any of this?” Josh asks.

“ _Everything_ ,” Tyler says, which is vague and answers nothing. Josh wants to understand Tyler’s faith, to experience even a fraction of it. It would be nice to believe in something again. “I can’t wait until we reach Salt Lake City.”

Josh never promised they’d go to Salt Lake City. Again he wonders if Tyler is secretly a Mormon or something. Josh asks.

“No,” Tyler shakes his head but smiles. “I think they’re very admirable, though, don’t you?”

Josh shrugs.

Tyler nods, “Yeah.”

Josh doesn’t really want to, but when the turn off appears he veers off the highway and towards Salt Lake City.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild tw//
> 
> panic attack  
> vomit

Josh was right. It’s all Mormons. Driving through the sprawling suburbs of Salt Lake City, Josh doesn’t think he’s gone more than five blocks without seeing a church.

“Isn’t it great?” Tyler says, face pressed against the window. “I’d love to bring Jenna here. We could start a family.”

Josh has no idea who Jenna is. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to be rude.

“She’d love it,” Tyler continues, “She could start a vegetable garden, and we could visit the church every Sunday. I should call her now, I should tell her, she’ll love it! We can move at once!”

“Um, I haven’t seen any payphones,” Josh says. He’s focusing on the road, despite their speed being a snail’s crawl. If he were a better person, Josh would admit to himself that he was jealous at the idea of Tyler leaving him, despite how short their friendship had been. But Josh isn’t a better man, and he certainly _isn’t_ jealous of Jenna.

“I have a mobile,” Tyler says helpfully.

 _Oh, now he wants to use his mobile_ , Josh thinks, bitter and confused. He makes a sharp U-turn and barely avoids hitting a couple of kids on their bikes. He only speeds up, heading the way he came from in an attempt to leave the city as soon as possible.

Tyler has his mobile pressed to his ear, rocking back and forth slightly in his seat as he waits for an answer. Josh hears a breathless _“Tyler?”_ from the other end of the phone, and Tyler’s face lights up in a grin.

“Jenna, hi, _hi_!” He greets.

 _“Ty,”_ Josh hears Jenna say. _“Where_ are _you?”_

“Utah,” Tyler answers. “Jenna, it’s _beautiful_ here! You’ll love it!”

“ _Utah?_ ” Jenna’s voice is high and alarmed. _“Tyler, what are you doing in_ Utah _? How did you get there?”_

Tyler beams at Josh. “Josh drove me. Have you met Josh? He’s my best friend-”

_“Ty, baby-”_

“-Josh, say hi to Jenna,” Tyler thrusts the phone into Josh’s hand.

“I’m driving, Tyler,” Josh says. He’s having a hard time breathing, it’s like his lungs are shrinking in his chest, he can hardly keep his hands steady on the wheel. “I- I can’t talk right now.”

“It’s fine, say hi, you’ll love Jenna, she’s amazing,” Tyler says, all in one breath.

“Um, h-hi Jenna,” Josh’s voice is shaking, why is it shaking?

 _“Tyler, listen to me for a moment,”_ Jenna says sharply.

“What?” Tyler snaps, frowning a little.

_“Your meds, Tyler. Are you still taking your meds?”_

Josh’s stomach drops. There’s something heavy and bitter in his mouth. Tyler was on _medication_? What for? Is he still taking it?

“I don’t _need them_ , Jen,” Tyler insists, “I’m better, I did it by myself, without meds. I feel _amazing_!”

 _“Tyler, you need medication,”_ Jenna says, _“You’re having an epis-”_

Tyler hangs up, winds down the window, and throws his phone out. Josh sees it shatter in the rear view mirror moments before he slams on the breaks. He can’t breathe, he can’t even process what just happened. He parks in the middle of the road and curls up on himself and sobs.

“Josh, Josh I don’t need meds. Jenna doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Tyler says. “Don’t cry. I’m fine.”

“That’s not- it-” Josh’s throat gives up on him and his words break into gasps for air. “I can’t- I-I- I can’t _breathe-_ ”

Tyler just sits there and watches him and Josh screams and cries and no one does anything to help even as his lungs fill with fire and his throat caves in on itself and his tongue chokes him and he cries out that he’s about to die, Tyler just watches with wide brown eyes and no expression. And when it’s finally over and Josh gasps in all the air he can possibly fit in his lungs and makes himself dizzy and nauseous, Tyler asks, “Are you going to keep driving now?”

Josh flings the door open, unclips his seatbelt and stumbles out of the car. He makes it to the grass on the side of the road before he pukes.


	30. Chapter 30

Josh’s throat burns. His mouth tastes of stomach acid. He’s weak and shaky, and there’s a headache starting behind his eyes. Tyler’s broken mobile sits in Josh’s pocket beside his own burner phone. Tyler hadn’t protested when Josh had retrieved it, although he hadn’t looked happy.

“Listen,” Tyler says hesitantly, when Salt Lake City is fading into the distance. “I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t know what to do.”

“You could have done literally _anything_ and it would have helped,” Josh spat. “You just sat there and _watched_. Do you know how that feels?”

Tyler is quiet, hugging his ukulele’s case to his chest. “I was just-”

“Don’t,” Josh interrupts. “Don’t talk.”

Josh needs silence. He can’t begin thinking about what happened. Although soon he won’t be able to stop thinking about it, the thoughts will circle like vultures in his mind until there’s nothing else.

Then Tyler does something that surprises Josh. He reaches over and turns on the radio.


	31. Chapter 31

Tyler hasn’t spoken since turning on the radio and Josh still isn’t sure what happens when they reach LA. He’s scared that, if the silence lasts too much longer, it’ll stick there, become a tangible, permanent third member in the car, the wedge that drives them apart. He’s scared that, upon reaching LA, Tyler will leave and Josh will be left with nothing but that silence.

They’re nearing the city when Josh finally turns the radio off and says, “I don’t think I can listen to any more top hundred billboard countdowns. I must’ve heard them all at this point.”

Top one hundred billboard countdowns never bothered him before he met Tyler.

“I think I’m getting a migraine,” Tyler says, not looking at Josh.

“It’s only half an hour now,” Josh says.

There is no apology, no formal make-up, no transparency regarding what happened. Even though Tyler pulls out his ukulele and starts plucking at the discordant chords, Josh feels as though part of him has been cut out. In his mind, there’s a gaping hole where their unspoken companionship used to be, a stab wound that he and Tyler are trying to cover with Band-Aids. What they have now is no more than a façade of friendship, the ashes of a burnt bridge that neither of them have the resources to rebuild. Josh doesn’t even know what sparked the flame.


	32. Chapter 32

They make it to LA some time past two am. Josh has been half-asleep and longing for coffee for the better part of the night, and Tyler has been curled in his seat, rubbing his head.

Once they reach the motel, Josh leaves Tyler and heads to the Seven Eleven he saw a few blocks away. Josh never has enough to eat at the best of times and his diet consists mainly of whatever the cheapest option at the closest drive through was, but the idea of eating more Burger King makes him want to vomit all over again, so he hopes that the Seven Eleven has something vaguely edible. At least it will have coffee.

While he walks he fishes Tyler’s phone out of his pocket and, just for the hell of it, tries to turn it on. The screen is more cracked than the splintered remains of his and Tyler’s friendship, but it lights up to display a “Low Battery, 20% battery remaining” sign and behind it a lock screen photo of Tyler and a woman with brilliant blue eyes and long blonde hair. Jenna, maybe?

Tyler’s phone is locked and Josh has no clue where to even start on unlocking it. Tyler isn’t the type to use something simple as his password. So he slips it back into his pocket and enters the Seven Eleven.


	33. Chapter 33

Josh returns to an empty motel room at four am. There is no sign Tyler has ever been there, even his ukulele case is gone. Despite everything, Josh’s heart seizes up at the thought of Tyler leaving. He drops the bags by the door, about to turn back around and head out and search for his friend when his eyes catch on the blueish light spilling from the bathroom. He isn’t convinced that he’ll find Tyler there – who brings their ukulele into the shower with them? – but nevertheless he creeps forwards and pushes the door open.

Tyler is sitting on the bathroom floor, wedged between the sink and the wall, knees curled up to his chest. In his hand is a buzzing hair clipper, and clumps of brown hair are piled up at Tyler's feet. His head is half-shaved, his remaining hair is patchy and uneven.

“Tyler!” Josh yelps. Tyler, who had been moving robotically, eyes lidded and breath shallow, jerks up and the razor nicks his ear. He stares silently at Josh for a few seconds, even as blood drips from his earlobe, trickles down his chin and stains the pale shirt he wears, then lifts the clippers back to his head and shaves off another tuft of hair.

Josh steps into the bathroom and kneels in front of Tyler, hands raised as if the other man were a wild animal, “Tyler, what are you doing?”

It takes a few moments for Tyler to answer. “Four am is the best time to have a breakdown.”

Josh laughs, a little incredulously, “I can’t leave you alone for two hours, can I?”

Tyler doesn’t smile. He keeps shaving his head, staring at Josh as though his brain is full of static. Josh figures that there’s not much he can do to stop Tyler, not while Tyler’s holding a buzzing razor to his head, so he sits cross-legged and supervises. Tyler finally clips his last tuft of hair and says, “Jenna was right.”

“About what?” Josh prompts. Personally, he’s pretty sure Jenna is right about everything, whatever 'everything' is. But it’s probably important for Tyler to come to his own conclusions.

“Maybe I shouldn’t’ve gone off the meds,” Tyler says.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Josh says. He realises it comes across as cutting when Tyler winces.

“I should . . .” Tyler pauses and frowns, as if the words are hiding from him. “Call Zac.”

Zac. Tyler has called Zac before, Josh heard him arguing with Zac before.

“Maybe I could call Zac, on your behalf,” Josh suggests. He feels rotten for saying it, like he’s tricking Tyler. It’s for Tyler’s own good, though, because he’s clearly in no mindset to talk to anyone. It’s also because he wants to talk to Zac, to find out answers, because everything about Tyler is a mystery and he’s hoping that the people Tyler knew back in Ohio are more grounded than Tyler himself is. Josh isn't sure if that makes him selfish or not.

Tyler turns the clippers over and over in his hands, “I need a payphone. My mobile-”

“Still works,” Josh says. “It just needs to charge.”

“I told him I lost it,” Tyler mutters.

“Why?” Josh asks bluntly.

“So he’d stop calling me.”

“Why?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

Josh knows what it’s like to not want to talk about things, to not be _able_ to talk about things, so he leaves Tyler alone in the bathroom, closes the door with a soft click and walks over to the power socket by the bed to charge Tyler’s phone. Tyler is lucky that Josh still has an apple charger from his old phone.

After about half an hour, Josh hears water pounding in the shower. Outside, vermilion clouds brew on the horizon and the sky fades from black to blue. Josh makes himself a sandwich, strips down to his boxers and goes to sleep.


	34. Chapter 34

Josh wakes up around midday. The other bed is untouched. There’s blue-white light emanating from under the bathroom door. Josh hopes distantly that Tyler didn’t spend the entire night in there. Josh is disappointed; he finds Tyler still curled against the wall and the sink, clutching his head in his hands, eyes closed lightly.

“Tyler?” Josh asks softly. “I’m gonna make toast. Want a piece?”

There’s no response. As Josh turns to make himself breakfast, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and recoils at the bloody red mess that is his hair. He doesn’t remember the yellow dye ever being as bright and pervasive as the red is.

Josh pops a piece of bread into the toaster and unplugs Tyler’s now-charged phone. On a whim he pulls the case off. A driver’s license and folded piece of paper falls out. Josh examines the license first. There’s a picture of Tyler, with neatly groomed hair and no bags under his eyes. He looks younger, or maybe just healthier. Josh jumps to the important information. His address in Columbus, Ohio, and his full name. Tyler R. Joseph. Did Josh really not know Tyler's last name until now?

Then he unfolds the piece of paper. It’s a prescription for some sort of medication. The paper is old and worn and the letters are fading, Josh can’t make out enough words to make sense of it. On the back of the paper is a handwritten list. It starts with what must be his phone’s passcode, then is followed by a list of names and numbers for Jenna, Zac and Mum, and others that Josh doesn’t recognise.

Josh unlocks the phone, then finds Zac’s name in Tyler’s contacts. He presses call.

Zac answers instantly with a sharp, “Tyler, listen to me-”

“It’s not Tyler,” Josh says. “My name is Josh.”

“Is he okay?” Zac asks. The man’s voice is high from worry. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

“He’s-” Josh pauses. He’s not sure that Tyler is okay. “He’s here, he’s with me.”

There’s a shaky sigh from the other end of the phone. Josh glances back at the bathroom door and wonders whether Tyler will be okay.

“Jenna told me he’d called her,” Zac says. “I didn’t know whether to relieved or terrified. Why are you in Utah?”

“We’re in LA now,” Josh says, ignoring the question. He doesn't want to think about Utah. Even the word tastes of something vile.

“You planning on staying there?” Zac asks.

“Maybe for a bit,” Josh pauses, then before the silence can become overwhelming he tacks on a, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, man. You probably saved his life,” Zac says. It’s meant to make Josh feel better, but he only feels worse. He hasn’t saved Tyler’s life, he’s taken him away from Columbus, where he was safe, where he was medicated, where he had a family.

Suddenly, Josh is talking, his voice shaking, his words coming out too fast, but he can’t stop. He recites everything, every single moment since meeting Tyler. Zac, to his credit, sits and listens and doesn’t interrupt. When Josh finally finishes, all he says is, “That’s one hell of an adventure, Josh. If you were in Columbus right now, I’d offer to buy you a drink.”

“I don’t drink,” Josh says, although that’s not really the point.

“A Red Bull, then,” Zac humours him. “When you bring him back.”

“He made me promise,” Josh says, “to not go back to Ohio.”

A silence spreads across the conversation, although there’s muffled noise from Zac’s end of the phone line. Then Zac asks, “How well do you really know Tyler?”

“What do you mean?” Josh asks, the familiar sensation of waves beating against his skull, of his words drowning and his eyes watering, of not being able to breathe creeps up inside of him.

“You’ve been carting him across the country for seven days, Josh, but do you even know his last name?” Zac asks.

“Joseph. Tyler J-Joseph,” Josh says, his voice is shaking again, worse than before. “I kn-know Tyler.”

“Do you?”

“He g-gets chronic migraines and can play th-the entire soundtrack to The Wizard o-o-of Oz on his ukulele,” Josh rambles, trying to remember anything and everything he can about Tyler. It's as if every detail has sunk to the bottom of the murky ocean in Josh's mind. He fishes through the mess and comes up empty handed. “He hates McDonalds and- a-and he- he . . .”

“And he has to take medication for his mood disorders _every day_ ,” Zac spits down the phone line. The words stick in Josh’s mind, stinging him. “He had a job writing lyrics for pop stars, and he writes his own music in his spare time. He loves basketball and Taco Bell and he can play piano better than anyone I’ve ever heard. He has two brothers and a sister, he has a wife who he up and left, he doesn’t have a father because his dad’s dead and he left _me_ to look after our dying mother because even after _all this time_ he’s still the same impulsive, reckless _idiot_ he was when he was first diagnosed!”

Zac’s voice has started off deadly quiet, but it had risen in volume with each word and by the end he was shouting down the phone, his words filling up Josh’s mind and leaving nothing except for guilt, horrible, horrible guilt because this is all _Josh’s_ fault for taking Tyler away from Ohio, for not asking exactly what Tyler was doing, for not questioning _anything_.

“I’m sorry,” Josh gasps. “I- I didn’t mean-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He hangs up the phone and collapses onto the thinly carpeted floor.


	35. Chapter 35

An hour later Josh has finally finished crying. He probably doesn’t even look like he’s been crying. It wasn’t like he had any reason to cry, he was just being overdramatic. After all it's Tyler who needs help. Josh finds a bottle of PRN medication in Tyler’s backpack. He knows because it’s labelled as such with the same handwriting that lists names and numbers on the paper behind Tyler’s phone case.

Josh needs to get Tyler to take the medication, he needs to get Tyler back to Ohio. He doesn't know how he's going to do either.

Tyler doesn’t want to take his medication, doesn’t _seem_ to need it, but Josh knows that it ends badly if you don’t take your meds. Take him, for example, surviving off takeaway coffee and having breakdowns when the slightest thing goes wrong, all the while ignoring the empty pill bottle in his glove box. He’s tried to convince himself it’s better, more real, to feel everything all the time than to become the calm alien that his anxiety medication made him become. He tries not to admit to himself that he's scared by the cocktail of pills that he has to deal with for work. What if one day he takes the wrong ones? Better not to take any at all.

Josh’s bad habits don’t excuse Tyler's. Josh arms himself with the PRN meds and whatever scraps of confidence he can gather, then knocks on the bathroom door. There’s no answer, but it’s not locked, so Josh nudges the door open. Tyler is asleep in the bathtub. One of his legs is hanging out the side of the tub, his head is tilted back against the ceramic lip and his mouth is open, revealing crooked teeth.

Josh doesn’t want to wake Tyler up. He half suspects Tyler hasn’t slept since Ohio. Maybe the meds can wait. Josh fetches a mug, fills it with water, and leaves it beside two pills – that’s the normal number of pills when it comes to painkiller, so it’s probably fine for this too, right? – on the side of the sink.

It’s only half an hour later when Tyler stumbles out of the bathroom, eyes droopy with sleep, and says, “You didn’t call Zac, did you?”

“I, yeah, I did,” Josh says honestly. "Like you asked, right?"

“ _No!_ ” Tyler spits, “Why did you do that?”

“You said I should-”

“No I didn’t!”

“I left your PRN medication on the sink,” Josh risks changing topics. It's better than being yelled at, “Did you take it?”

“My- I don’t have PRN medication,” Tyler says quickly, too quickly.

Josh fishes the bottle of meds out of his pocket, “What’s this then?”

Tyler balks and looks about the room, as if some sort of excuse will sprout up between the floorboards and entangle Josh deeper into the twisting roots. Josh is done with excuses.

“ _I_ _don’t need them_ ,” Tyler enunciates every word. His gaze is unblinking, defiant, daring Josh to continue. “I’m better now.”

If Tyler had told him that before they reached Salt Lake City, maybe Josh would trust him. Instead, Tyler had sat back and watched as Josh built a glass house around them both, had allowed Josh to be blinded when the yellow sunlight reflected on the glass and turned it gold, had watched and waited when the sun sunk from the sky, and had then helped gather stones that were thrown against the glass intended to crack and splinter it.

Tyler needs his medication. Josh needs to make him take it. He opens the bottle with fumbling fingers and tips two pills into his palm, holding them out to Tyler.

“Please,” Josh says softly.

Tyler lashes out and slaps Josh’s wrist, making the pills spill onto the floor. Josh hisses in pain and draws back, trying to blink away tears. Tyler steps forwards, and just now does Josh realise that the other man is taller. “I _don’t need them_.”

“You hit me,” Josh says softly. The are matter-of-fact.

“You’re trying to poison me,” Tyler’s tone is definitely accusing. “Those _things_ make me feel so cold, like I’m not even alive, Josh. I just want to be _alive_ , I thought you understood-”

“What about when things get bad? Zac said you have mood disorders, what happens then?” Josh presses. His hands are shaking on the pill bottle.

“At least I’ll feel _something_!” Tyler says. His breathing is quick and fast, his cheeks flushed pink. His forehead is slick with sweat, even though the motel’s air con is on. “At least I’m not the mindless, spineless zombie that the pills make me become!”

Tyler snatches up his backpack from the end of his untouched bed and storms out of the room.


	36. Chapter 36

Josh wants to keep driving. He’s been in LA for close to three days and there’s an itch in the back of his mind, a need to keep moving, to stay untraceable, to disappear down dusty roads. Staying still traps him, Josh is stuck in the web he used to so carefully traverse. He can only wait for the spider to arrive.

The sun is low in the sky. It’s been eight hours since Tyler left and Josh has spent the last two sitting on the end of his bed and waiting for Tyler to come back. Tyler _has_ to come back. Doesn’t he? He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, right? Josh is too anxious to eat. His hands won’t sit still, so he taps out a rhythm on his lap. It might be the same song Tyler sung to him when he was breaking down on his car’s roof.

Outside, a car engine purrs as it pulls into the motel parking lot. Someone else checking in or out of the motel. Hopefully. Hopefully it’s not someone there for him, whether police or otherwise. Josh is sure he has more time to get to his destination, but maybe they’re impatient. Or maybe it was his sub-par lying at the border. Or maybe it’s just his anxiety playing up and it’s just people checking in to the motel. Why would it be anything else?

Josh takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to relax. He should make himself a cup of coffee. Having something to do other than sit and wait, even if it’s a task as menial as making coffee, gives him just a semblance of calm. Josh stands up and walks over to the kitchenette. Things are going to be fine. Tyler will come back, apologise, and take his meds. They’ll drive back to Ohio and part ways. Everything will be fine.

There’s a knock on the motel door.


	37. Chapter 37

Josh answers unthinkingly, armed with nothing but an empty mug. Two people stand on the porch, a women and a man, both unfamiliar but neither dressed formally enough to be there due to Josh’s work.

The woman is about Josh’s age, maybe younger. Her eyes are rimmed with red, her cheeks are flushed. She’s been crying. She wears an oversized sweater that is too hot for the LA summer and doesn’t quite cover the roundness of her stomach. The man’s build is strong, his features youthful and unmistakably familiar.

The man clears his throat and says, “Hey, uh, Josh? I’m Zac, you know, Tyler’s brother. You spoke to me on the phone. This is Ty’s wife, Jenna. Can we come in?”


	38. Chapter 38

“Where’s Tyler?” Zac peers about the empty motel room as if expecting his brother to materialise out of thin air.

“You, um, you missed him,” Josh says. He walks to the kitchenette and fills his mug with water. His hands are shaking so bad that drops of water spill onto his tennis shoes.

“Missed him?” Jenna asks. Her voice is slightly croaky. She’s shed her sweater and Josh refuses to look at her, because she’s pregnant and it’s Tyler’s and Josh has faced enough uncomfortable truths about Tyler already. Josh doesn’t want to think about Tyler running from his pregnant wife, Josh doesn’t want to face the fact that _he_ was an accessory to the whole thing.

“I _can’t believe it_ ,” Zac spits out, jaw working to stop himself saying more. “Do you know how much the flights costed? We came as soon as we fucking could and-”

“Zac,” Jenna says. The one word silences him.

“He got mad and walked out, uh, eight hours ago.” Josh lifts the mug to his mouth and takes a long drink to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. No one speaks, but the accusations hang heavy in the silence that follows. He knows he should have stopped Tyler.

Jenna slowly sits herself down at the motel’s table, ignoring how the chair trembles on termite-eaten legs, and says, “Josh, could you make us some coffee? I feel you have quite the story to tell.”


	39. Chapter 39

The coffee was a bad idea. Josh's fingers twitch restlessly against the handle of his empty mug, his foot taps incessantly and his shoulders curl up towards his ears. He hopes Zac and Jenna don't notice. They sit, crowded around the motel’s round table, floating in the silence that followed his recollection of what happened.

“He’ll come back,” Jenna says, with an amount of faith Josh can’t help but be jealous of. He thinks of all the times he worried Tyler would leave, all the times he’s thought Tyler _had_ left, and wonders how she can have so much certainty.

Outside, the motel’s sign glows neon red against the night sky. There’s no sign of Tyler.

“How can you be so sure?” Josh forces himself to ask.

Something passes between Jenna and Zac. Josh is jealous. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to know someone so well that a look suffices for a conversation.

“He’s not stupid,” Jenna says finally. “He’ll come back. He always has before.”

“He never made it as far as LA before though,” Zac mutters. He glances out the window and then stares at the wooden grain on the table.  “Downtown Columbus is usually far enough.”

It’s because of Josh that all this happened. He can’t meet their eyes. His shoulders are so tense that his back aches. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“You didn’t know,” Jenna says. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I still-”

Across the room, Tyler’s phone rings.


	40. Chapter 40

Zac is across the room before Josh can even stand up.

“What the _actual hell_ , Tyler?” Zac spits into Josh's phone's speaker. Josh winces at the harshness of his voice.

“Zac,” Jenna protests, frowning at her brother-in-law. “Zac, come here, give me the phone.”

Josh can’t speak. His throat is choking on any words that he wants to say, making his lungs burn and tears prick at his eyes. Zac tosses the burner phone down onto the table. Tyler’s breath is shaky and quiet on the other end of the call. It sounds like he’s been crying.

“ _-please, Josh, I need you to, to come pick me up_.”

Zac and Jenna look to Josh. Josh swallows thickly, “Um, where are you?”

“ _Please, Josh_ ,” Tyler says again. His voice is shaking, words on the edge of being slurred. “ _I d-don’t know where I, I am, I need you._ ”

“Ty, darling,” Jenna says. Josh isn’t sure what she could say to make this any better.

Tyler inhales sharply, “ _Is that Jenna? I have to, I, I have to go_.”

Tyler pauses for a long moment. No one says anything. The line goes dead.

Zac stands up and kicks the table leg. “ _Fuck_.”


	41. Chapter 41

Tyler had told Josh that four am was the best time to have a breakdown. Josh thinks Tyler is taking his own advice. He leans against the motel doorway, groggy and half-asleep, staring out at Tyler. Tyler stands on the porch, eyes teary and bloodshot. He’s shivering, although the night isn’t cold. The slightest breath of wind could push him over, shatter him like glass against the cement.

“Can I come in?” Tyler asks, voice softer than Josh has ever heard it.

“Of course, Ty,” Josh says. He doesn't ask where Tyler went, or what happened, or why he's back. It doesn't matter. Jenna or Zac would ask, but Josh isn't either of them.

Tyler winces and shuffles past Josh. His eyes linger first on the couch where Zac sleeps, barely covered by a scratchy woolen blanket, then on the bed that would have been his. Jenna is curled on her side on the bed, one hand resting on her stomach. Her hair is a mess of straw-like strands, her mouth is open and a pool of drool spreads out from the pillowcase. She looks nothing short of perfect. Everything about Tyler’s life seems perfect. Why would he leave?

A creeping thought occurs to Josh, “Do you regret leaving Ohio?”

Tyler shakes his head and stares at his feet. Despite everything, Josh believes him. In the twelve or so hours since he left his entire demeanour has been flipped on his head. He’s a ghost among his own family, shrinking in his hoodie with hunched shoulder and quiet breath, looking about the room as though he is surrounded by strangers. He’s swaying slightly on his feet, too, face pale as if he’s about to pass out.

“Go to bed,” Josh says, nodding towards the mess of sheets on his own bed, “We can talk in the morning.”

Tyler laughs, it comes out slightly hysterical. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

If Josh was a better person, a better friend, he would insist Tyler at least try to sleep. Instead he asks, “Should I make coffee?”


	42. Chapter 42

The coffee, as always, was a bad idea. Josh's hands are trembling, his jaw is tight, there’s static in his ears that makes everything sound distant and soft. He can hear his own heart beating in his chest and his quick, sharp breaths match pace with it and _shit_ he’s hyperventilating again.

“Are you okay?” Tyler mutters at his own cup. It's cold and untouched. Tyler still looks less than present in the room, but he hasn’t passed out from exhaustion, so Josh takes that as a good sign.

“Y-yeah,” Josh’s voice trembles as he struggles to seize control of it.

Pink clouds hang low and heavy on the horizon. Tyler insisted they have the curtains open, and Josh is grateful for it because he can watch the highway instead of loose himself in the early morning silence.

“You're a hypocrite,” Tyler says softly. He looks like he wishes Josh hadn’t heard, avoiding eye contract and running his fingers along the lines in the wooden table. Josh stares at him blankly, not sure what Tyler is talking about. There’s a long pause before Tyler looks up and continues, “You have anxiety meds in your glovebox.”

“I didn’t know you knew,” Josh says. “They’re old, anyway.”

“You don’t take your meds,” Tyler says, “But you tried to make me take mine.”

Almost every excuse Josh could use, Tyler could twist back onto him. But Tyler has something that Josh doesn’t.

“You have a family,” Josh says, “They need you medicated and safe.”

“And you don-” Tyler cuts himself off as Josh’s expression tightens.

“Not anymore.”

The first beams of sunlight filter through the motel window, weak and pathetic. On the horizon, the pink clouds have turned to red. Jenna stirs on her motel bed, eyes blinking open. Tyler and Josh watch, and Josh tries not to feel creepy. When she catches sight of them, she offers a tentative half-smile, then makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“Morning sickness,” Tyler explains unnecessarily.

The sunrise is still scarlet when Jenna joins them ten minutes later, knotted hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“What time did you get back?” She asks Tyler softly, taking one of his hands in hers.

He pulls away, “Four am.”

Tyler doesn’t ask why or how Jenna and Zac got here.

“You seem better,” Jenna notes, with a hint of optimism. “Did you take PRN?”

Tyler shakes his head. Josh moves mechanically, pulling the bottle out of his pocket and putting it in the centre of the table. It clatters noisily against the tabletop, a product of Josh’s shaking hands.

“It will help,” Jenna says, “It will make the thoughts go away.”

“I know,” Tyler whispers hoarsely. He’s still staring at his untouched coffee. “I- I can’t. What if I make all the same mistakes again?”

“What mistakes, Ty?” Jenna reaches for his hand again. This time he lets her, his hand resting limp and still in hers.

Tyler chokes on his words, shaking his head at the table.

“Not yet, then,” Jenna relents. “But don’t think you’ve heard the end of this.”


	43. Chapter 43

The clouds don’t dissipate. They hang, heavy and confining, across the sky. The day is cool and damp, and everyone’s emotions are just as subdued. All three Josephs and Josh convene in Josh and Tyler’s motel room. Tyler still hasn’t so much as touched his coffee. He’s swaying in his seat, eyes heavy and bloodshot. Josh is tired, but sleep is the last thing from Josh’s mind. He has a headache.

“We’re catching a flight back to Ohio tomorrow,” Zac says. “You’re coming with us, Tyler.”

Tyler blinks blearily and nods. His eyes are fixed out the window on the overcast sky. Josh doubts he hears Zac at all.

“Ty, baby,” Jenna says, “If this is because of me, or because of your mu-”

Tyler takes a deep breath, intending to interrupt, and Jenna stops to let him speak, “I wanted, I, I wanted to . . .”

“He wanted to go to LA, to make something of himself with his music,” Josh finishes quietly.

Zac snorts and pushes his chair back so it creaks on the stone floor, “You told me he wanted to go to LA the same goddamn night you left. How didn’t we catch that you were having an episode?”

“It seemed like a good idea,” Tyler says, “I thought I could make enough money to finish the chemo, for Mum.”

“Oh, Tyler, it’s not your job to do that,” Jenna says, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Josh’s stomach sinks and settles in the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean. Tyler’s mother has cancer. Tyler’s mother is dying. Josh’s trembling is beyond noticeable. He hides his hands under the table so no one sees. Not that anyone’s paying attention to him.

“I thought I could do it,” Tyler says.

“You were in the clouds, Tyler, you probably thought you could do anything,” Zac’s tone isn’t scathing, but his words are and Tyler flinches.

“You should take your PRN, Ty,” Jenna suggests. Tyler doesn’t make a move towards the bottle on the table, but he doesn’t protest when she puts two pearly white pills beside his cup of cold coffee. He picks one up, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m scared,” Tyler admits. His words are less than a whisper, his voice hoarse and shaky.

Then his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps forwards, head hitting the tabletop with a resounding thunk.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw//
> 
> self-harm (referenced)

Tyler’s untouched coffee sloshes over the mug’s walls, dripping like dirty tears down the white porcelain. Zac is by Tyler’s side almost before his head hits the table, slinging an arm around the unconscious man and propping him up again.

“He’s probably exhausted,” Jenna says, tipping the pills in her palm back into the bottle. “When was the last time he slept?”

Josh can’t answer. He doesn’t know.

Zac scoops Tyler up in his arms, knees buckling under the dead weight, and walks him to the bed and lowers him inelegantly on the crumbled sheets. Jenna follows them and sits on the bed, stroking Tyler’s forehead. Josh hovers by the table, clumsy and uncertain and entirely useless.

“He’s got a fever,” Jenna says.

“Maybe he can sleep it out,” Zac says, although his expression is doubtful.

Jenna starts to carefully remove Tyler’s hoodie. The material is thick and soft and heavy. It sticks wetly to Tyler’s arms when Jenna tries to pull it off. The smell of blood oozes through the air.

Oh, Josh thinks.  _Oh_. Tyler hurt himself.

He turns tail and runs, slamming the motel door behind him. He takes three steps before his legs give out and he dry heaves onto the ground. Nothing comes out. Josh is hyperventilating, it’s only a matter of seconds before his vision is eaten up by the blackness behind his eyes.


	45. Chapter 45

Josh finds himself curled in a ball against the rough motel wall. He can hear Zac and Jenna speaking from inside their - his - room, but the words are muffled by brick and glass. Josh doesn’t want to know what they’re saying anyway. His headache is worse than before and there are tears in his eyes. He doesn’t deserve pity, not even his own, not when Tyler’s passed out from self-inflicted wounds on a motel bed hundreds of miles from home.

Josh isn’t ready to  face Zac and Jenna again. He isn't ready for the reality of what Tyler’s done to himself. Josh watches the sun rise further into the sky and cars drift thoughtlessly by on the highway below, so, so completely unaware of what is happening at the dingy motel on the roadside. It must be close to an hour later when the door opens beside him and Zac slides down the uneven brickwork to sit next to Josh.

“Hey,” Zac says quietly. The word hangs as heavy as the clouds above them. Josh feels like he’s swallowed shards of glass. He can’t bring himself to speak. Zac continues quietly, “I came out here to call mum. I thought you left, honestly.”

“For good?” Josh asks hoarsely, focusing on the feeling of the fabric of his jeans rather than on the conversation and how similar Zac’s features are to Tyler’s.

“Yeah, kinda,” Zac says, “Why stick around?”

There isn’t a good answer for that. Josh has no reason to prioritise Tyler. Tyler’s family can look after him now. Josh should let his work drag him back onto the highways he’s been forced to call home. Zac sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket. It looks nice. Expensive.

Zac calls his mother. Josh watches an ant stumble across the concrete floor towards the carpark.

“Mum wanted to thank you,” Zac says when he ends the call. “For keeping Tyler safe.”

Josh laughs. It comes out cracked and strangled. “I’d hardly say I kept him safe.”

“Josh, what happened just now wasn’t your fault-”

“Wasn’t it?” Josh asks harshly, “If I hadn’t taken him all the way from Ohio to here, if I hadn’t let him run off in a city he’d never been in before, if I’d done the right thing for once in my life-”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Zac interrupts again, putting a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You couldn’t’ve known he would hurt himself. And anyway, Tyler’s a headstrong idiot. When he gets an idea in his head, there’s no stopping him.”

Josh doesn’t reply. Sometimes it’s just too difficult to talk to people.

Zac hauls himself to his feet and offers Josh a hand, “Let’s go back inside, huh?”


	46. Chapter 46

They take Josh’s car to the airport the next day. Tyler claims his spot in the passenger seat, legs curled to his chest and eyes staring vacantly out the windscreen. There are thick white bandages on his left arm, a harsh contrast from his black tee. Tyler’s medicated again, if you can call a single dose of PRN ‘medicated’. It’s a start, though, and it’s not Josh’s responsibility to keep Tyler accountable for his medication.

Jenna and Zac sit in the back seat and Josh feels as though he’s full of buzzing, electric static. He hopes neither of them poke about in the mess by their feet, or ask any questions about what Josh actually _does_ for a living.

They don’t. The drive to the airport passes in complete silence. Somehow, that’s just as bad.


	47. Chapter 47

It’s not exactly the type of occasion that calls for sappy goodbyes. Zac and Jenna check in their single suitcase of luggage. Josh buys two Red Bulls from a vending machine and gives one to Tyler. Tyler thanks him but leaves the can unopened.

“Sorry,” Josh says, “I didn’t ask if you like Red Bull.”

“I do,” Tyler says, “Just- I can’t stomach it. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

They find a wooden bench beside a fake plant and sit down. Josh turns his own drink over and over in his hands, trying to ignore his headache. Tyler sinks back against the plant pot, rubbing his bandaged arm and staring at the floor.

“We, uh,” Josh trails off, unable to talk past the lump in his throat.

“I owe you an apology,” Tyler says. His voice is quiet, as if he wished Josh couldn't hear him. He doesn’t make eye contact, and for that Josh is grateful. Tyler clears his throat and continues, “I could give you a lot of excuses, about my mental health, or my family, but I don’t think that I should. I made a mistake – a lot of mistakes – and it hurt people even though I didn't intend it to. It was my fault you were dragged into all this. So Josh, I’m really sorry.”

Tyler pauses hopefully, glancing at Josh through his lashes. Josh looks emptily at the tiles near his feet.

“You don’t have to accept it, I understand,” Tyler says in a rush. “If you can’t forgive me, it’s okay-”

“It’s not that,” Josh says. He wishes he hadn’t spoken, because Tyler falls silent and centres his attention on him. “I just can’t- it’s a lot to process.”

They sit together in silence. Josh sees Zac and Jenna approaching from across the airport.

“You have to go soon,” Josh says. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“You know, Josh?” Tyler finally opens his Red Bull, “Despite everything, I did enjoy it.”

For a long moment Josh stares at Tyler, unable to talk.

Tyler presses a piece of paper in Josh’s hand, smiles, and says, “If you want to come visit for Christmas, or something, you’d be more than welcome. Promise.”

Josh looks curiously at the scrap of paper. On the paper in Tyler’s handwriting is an address for a house in Columbus, Ohio. He imagines a home with a picket fence, maybe a dog, and a small child playing on a plastic swing set in the front yard. He thinks of a suburban paradise, and a family. He thinks about being part of that family. He surprises himself when he thinks it wouldn't be that bad.

Josh lifts his head again, maybe to thank Tyler, but there's no sign of him, or Zac, or Jenna.

It’s a good six months until Christmas, but Josh hopes that come December, Tyler's offer will still stand.


End file.
